Dance With The Devil
by kendra151
Summary: Some games are too dangerous for children... ONE SHOT. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**So I had a rather strange dream a few months ago and this is the result. I had intended for this to be a one shot, and it still is, just a long one. So I'm splitting it up into two parts. Dean Ambrose is a fairly new interest for me, so I'm not as familiar with him as I am with the other characters I've written about. Hopefully, this story will turn out as well as the others anyway. We'll see how it goes.**

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_**Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?**_

**Part 1**

In the dead of night, across a lonely and forsaken landscape, fathomless stars and sparkling moonlight faded to black behind a thick blanket of ominous clouds. Far below the dense canopy, a lone figure paused and exhaled a shaky breath, the foggy puff of air quickly evaporating into the darkened gloom. Her body damp with perspiration from her exertions, the woman shivered both from fear and cold, as she frantically surveyed the land around her in her search for sanctuary. This place. This street. This town. Nothing here was familiar to her. She had no idea where she was. Or in which direction safety might lay. She only knew that she needed to find somewhere to hide. And she needed to do it quickly.

The particular street she found herself on was completely deserted, the burnt out streetlamps blending with the vanishing moonlight to offer an unlimited array of shadows in which to hide. But whatever concealment they might offer to her, they would also offer to another. Making it impossible to see his approach. Rendering him nearly invisible in the night.

No, she needed to find a safer haven. Something that would offer more protection. Scanning her surroundings, she was dismayed by her lack of options. To her left lay a vast, empty field, the slight breeze swaying the tops of the knee-high grass in whispering waves. The thick clusters called to her, taunting her, offering the promise of shelter, but there was no possible way she could work her way through the fragile stalks without leaving an obvious trail behind. The view to her right was only slightly better, with a sparse line of dilapidated houses dotting the landscape, broken windows and doorless entries providing proof that the aging structures had long been abandoned. Like the shadows, she was certain they afforded many places to hide. But with no way to lock herself in – or another out – they would be virtually worthless.

Keeping a constant eye out for her pursuer, she continued further down the empty street, limping from the pain in her legs and feet. The black heels that she wore certainly were not ideal for the task she had been compelled to undertake. But there had been no time to prepare. She had been forced to flee with only the sparse clothing on her back - a thin, sleeveless blouse and a short, black skirt – which also did little to protect her from the rapidly dropping temperature of the evening.

She stumbled onward, her panic rising as the decrepit houses began to grow further and further apart, her chances for safety diminishing with every step. Exhausted and close to tears, she had nearly given up, when a faint beacon of hope broke through the darkness. Up ahead, perched atop a small hill, stood a large Victorian style home, which easily overshadowed the other structures below. And while the house's exterior was as aged and worn as the others before it, it differed in one major detail. In one upstairs room, through a dirty but solid pane of glass, a soft light glistened, the golden rays beckoning to her across the deserted terrain. Instantly, her spirits lifted.

Here was the refuge she sought. Herein laid the salvation she so desperately needed.

Scrambling up the pitted lane that had once surely been a majestic driveway, she managed to avoid the holes and gullies where the ground had washed away, the tall weeds lashing against her bare legs as she rushed closer toward the looming structure. As she reached the wide steps that led up to the front door, she paused momentarily, wondering if the wooden planks were still sturdy enough to support her weight. The structure looked much worse up close than it had from the street, and she stepped on the bottom tread gingerly, relieved to find that it held fast beneath her. Bounding up the remaining steps, she skidded to a stop in front of the solid wooden door and began to knock frantically. She beat her fist against the worn surface repeatedly as she fought the urge to cry out for help, fearful the sound would bring her pursuer running all the more faster. Glancing over her shoulder, she wondered how much longer her luck would continue to hold out. At this rate, by the time the person inside made it to the door, it would be much too late. Unwilling to waste any more time, she tested the knob and was surprised to find that it turned easily in her grasp. With only a moment of hesitation, she swung the heavy door open and stepped inside the house.

"Hello?" She finally called out as she entered the foyer, making sure the door was closed securely behind her. Fidgeting nervously, she stood in place as she waited for the answer that never came.

Squinting, she scanned the lightless interior, searching for any sign of the home's occupant. As her eyes adjusted to the gloomy shadows, she was surprised to see that the space looked deserted, what few random pieces of furniture that remained having been draped with heavy, white sheets to protect against the elements of time. There was no movement. No sound. And no light, save for only the faint trace visible at the top of the stairs, projected from the room she had seen from the road outside.

Spotting the outline of the staircase directly in front of her, she stepped forward and carefully but quickly ascended the aging treads. They protested loudly, even under her insubstantial frame, but she paid little mind to their vociferous warning as she clamored toward the dreary platform at the top. Again she called out, seeking assistance, but the only sound that returned was the echo of her own voice as it vibrated off the tall, empty expanse of the walls.

At the top of the stairs, she turned to the right, the glow from the well-lit room spilling across the threshold into the otherwise darkened hallway. Still on edge, but with a helpless sense of desperation, she crept closer, the frantic urgency of her situation spurring her on. Pausing just outside the doorway, she strained to hear any sign of movement from within the enclosed space. But if there was any to be heard, it was easily overshadowed by the frantic beating of her heart.

Gathering her nerve, she forced herself to step forward and turn the corner, her hands raised in a gesture of surrender toward whoever might be inside. In the next instant, she faltered, her blood running cold as she took in the sight spread out before her.

Like the bottom floor, this room was also nearly empty. But the items that had been left behind were enough to run her blood cold. In the center of the floor, in front of a tall, upright mirror, a worn, bare mattress had been placed. And scattered around it, in a series of erratic patterns, were dozens of candles of varying shapes and sizes, their combined luminescence offering the false sense of security that had lured her inside. Gazing out across their shimmering surface, she felt her stomach roll, her heart sinking.

It had all been a trap.

He had intended to draw her here all along.

As though on cue, she heard the front door below open, then close again with a heavy thud. Fear propelling her to action, she spun around, frantically searching for someplace to hide. There were several doorways located along the hallway where she stood and she darted for the nearest one, praying that it offered some type of concealment. As she crossed the threshold, she was met with a familiar sight, what meager furniture the room contained having been covered with the same heavy, white tarps as the items on the floor below. Quickly surveying her choices, she selected a peculiar shaped piece mid-way across the room and was relieved to find it was an antique sofa, which was tall enough to allow her to slide underneath. She scrambled beneath the cloth, carefully tugging it back into place, and tried to slow her panicked breathing, reciting another silent prayer that her presence would remain undetected.

As the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness, she rested her forehead against the cold, dusty hardwood, closing her eyes as she replayed the events that had led her to this moment. Again, she cursed herself for not being more careful. Given his history, she should have known he was not a man to be messed with. And she realized now, with growing terror, that she had grossly underestimated his ability to hold a grudge.

She was Natalie Simms, current wrestling diva and antagonist extraordinaire, not to be confused with her annoyingly pleasant co-worker, Natayla Neidhart, although that was a mistake few people were apt to make. Unlike her straight-laced counterpart, she herself was no stranger to trouble and it was no secret that she was not well-liked within her professional circle. If there was some kind of mischief to be created or a pot to be stirred, more often than not, she was right in the thick of things, having been the instigator on the majority of occasions. So when she had been approached about the particular deed in question, she had jumped at the opportunity. Just the thought of being able to knock some of the company's biggest up-and-coming stars down a few notches had filled her with giddy pleasure, the likes of which even Mrs. Goody Two-Shoes herself had likely never encountered. She despised their arrogance and although she hated to admit it, she was envious of their sudden rise to fame. It wasn't fair that she'd been with the company so long, and had worked twice as hard, only to have been given a miniscule portion of the opportunities that had been handed to them. And if there was some way for her to turn the tide in her favor, even if it was just for a moment, then she couldn't see any reason why she shouldn't take the risk. Or, at least, she hadn't at the time.

She shivered as the stark reality of her situation began to sink in, cursing the decision she had made. If only she hadn't interfered. If only she hadn't caused the loss of that which they had held most dear. She could still hear the echo of her own laughter as she celebrated with her own comrades, the spoils of their victory held high over their heads as they paraded out of the ring and up the ramp. And even now, she could remember oh-so-clearly, how she had given a final, fateful glance back toward the middle of that squared circle, her eyes locking with the man who was still kneeling on the mat, glaring at her -the self-proclaimed leader of the group, Dean Ambrose. His fury obvious, there had been no misunderstanding the words he had mouthed to her, which now resounded with such truth inside her head.

_You will pay._

That had been weeks ago. She was ashamed at how quickly she'd forgotten his silent threat, her attention shifting to more important issues. There was always trouble to be found. And if not found, it was easy to be made. There had been plenty of other things with which she could fill her time. But _he_ hadn't forgotten. She understood that perfectly now. He'd simply been biding his time. Watching. Waiting. Planning.

She didn't know how he'd managed it, but she realized now that he was responsible for everything that had happened to her throughout this fateful night. The erroneous detour. The defective automobile. The disappearance of her cell phone. This phony refuge. And now she was caught in this terrifying game of cat-and-mouse that he'd so carefully constructed, with any prospect of help miles out of reach.

The sound of footsteps in the hall outside the room pulled her back into reality, and she clamped a hand over her mouth as she tried to hold back the whimper that threatened spill forth. She was dejected to hear that there was no sense of urgency in his stride, each heavy footfall resounding with a slow and steady thump as he casually stalked his helpless prey. She had no trouble picturing the look of satisfaction that surely graced his face, his blue eyes twinkling with the enjoyment of knowing she had easily fallen for his ruse.

She heard him pause, no doubt taking a brief moment to admire the charade he had so carefully crafted in the room across the hall. Then he was on the prowl again, each ominous step growing increasingly louder as he drew nearer to the room where she was currently tucked away.

Even if she hadn't been able to hear his approach, she knew the exact moment he entered the room. The air around her seemed to thicken, its heavy weight settling over her like a blanket. She could sense the anger that still consumed him, its fiery passion radiating in heated waves that vibrated across the space, the atmosphere thrumming with the destructive force of his energy. He stilled again and with each second that passed, she felt her doubts rise. Did he know where she was? Had he found her already? Her mind raced frantically, wondering if, in her haste, she had somehow left a clue behind. A smudge, a footprint, a wrinkle in the sheet – the slightest disturbance would be all he needed if he was observant enough. Keeping time with the pulse that throbbed in her neck, she counted off each excruciating minute, waiting for the fateful moment when she knew he would pounce. But instead, much to her surprise, he departed abruptly and she exhaled a quiet breath of relief as she listened to his footsteps fade away down the empty hall.

Grateful for the temporary reprieve, she tried to gather her thoughts as she contemplated what her next move should be. She had to get out of this house. And she desperately needed to find some help. But she had no idea how far she would have to travel, and in which direction, before she might stumble upon civilization again. At this point, her only other option was to find a weapon she could use to defend herself, and if possible, contain him somehow, so she could have a chance to get away. How on earth she would ever do that, she didn't know. But she knew as long as she was stuck under the same roof with this man, she would never be safe.

Considering her options, she was startled by the feel of something brushing ever so slightly against her bare leg. It was soft and fleeting, nothing more than a whisper of air she assumed, yet she felt the goose bumps creep over her flesh at the sensation. Reassuring herself, she shook it off as she resumed her train of thought. After all, it wasn't unusual for a house of this particular age and condition to be cold and drafty. As she tried to remember the route that had led her to this place, she wondered if she would be wise to backtrack her trail. Perhaps there was another road she had missed in her earlier haste...

Again, something grazed against her, zigzagging over her foot. Once. Twice. Instinctively, she kicked out in defense, but she realized all too late that it was a fateful mistake. She heard the soft squeak beside her ear, moments before she felt something run over her hair and along her back, realization setting in with terrifying clarity. A mouse! And not just one. Dozens of them, no doubt disturbed by her sudden and unwelcome presence under the aged furnishing they now called their home. Her sudden kick had sent them scurrying in all directions, around her and over her, their furry coats and straw-like tails trailing across her bare skin as they clamored for safety. Fighting back a shriek of horror, she scrambled from beneath the sofa, swatting at her hair and clothes to remove the stragglers that accompanied her. As they fell to the ground and scurried back to the comfort of their nest, she stared after them wide-eyed, and backed away from the couch warily, as though any moment it might spring to life and pursue her itself.

Her sanity wavering, she backpedaled toward the doorway, anxious to be as far away from the room and its filthy occupants as she could get. Turning on her heels, she darted recklessly for the door. And stumbled right into the embrace of the man who had suddenly blocked her path.

"Hello, darlin'. I've been lookin' for you." Dean taunted with a sickening grin as he gripped her upper arms in a solid grasp. Too stunned to react, she could only stare up at him with an expression of complete surprise as his fingers dug painfully into her skin, no doubt leaving marks that would be visible for days to come. Then he released her arms in favor of her hair, his fingers winding through the thick, dark locks as he roughly spun her around, his free arm looping about her waist as he half-carried, half-dragged her toward the lighted room.

"Let go of me!" She screamed, finally regaining her composure as she clawed at his arms, trying her best to squirm her way free. Planting her feet firmly against the floor, she tried to stall his forward momentum, but she was only successful in losing both of her shoes in the process. "Get away from me!"

With a chuckle, he obeyed her command, shoving her roughly so that she lost her balance and tumbled forward onto the dirty mattress in front of her. Instantly, she was on her hands and knees, her fingers digging into its pitted surface as she struggled to get away. Then he was on top of her, his predominant weight settling on her lower back as he straddled her flailing legs. Hooking a forearm beneath her chin, he pulled her head back sharply, forcing her to face her own terrified reflection in the mirror. To her dismay, the vision easily revealed the severity of her situation, her own eyes wild with fear and panic, while his blazed with deranged satisfaction.

"Please..." she whimpered, hating the weakness the sound conveyed, the strain on her back unbearably painful. The position left her virtually immobile and any attempt to loosen the arm around her neck was both feeble and useless. With a smirk that was all too familiar, Dean gave her hair a rough jerk and she cried out in pain as his gaze met hers in the mirror.

"Well, what do we have here? From the look of things, I'd say the troublemaker just found a little trouble of her own." The smirk disappeared as quickly as it had materialized, his expression growing serious as he leaned closer over her shoulder. "I told you that you would pay. Didn't I warn you?"

"I...I'm sorry..."

"You're sorry?" he repeated with a laugh. "Well, that makes everything better doesn't it? Tell me sweetheart, are you sorry for what you did? Or just sorry that it finally caught up to you?"

"I'm sorry." she repeated with a raspy breath, her mouth suddenly dry, her throat constricted by the unnatural tilt of her neck. "I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have done anything..."

"No, you shouldn't have. But, that doesn't make much of a difference now, does it?" he questioned, his voice laced with contempt. "You wanna know what I think? I don't think you're sorry at all. Believe me, I've heard all about you. How you love to stir up shit any chance you get. How you like to cause problems for everybody. So don't tell me that you're sorry. You enjoy it too much. But you picked the wrong guy this time, didn't you darlin'? Maybe you don't know much about me, but I've been known to dish out a little trouble of my own from time to time. And the funny thing is, no matter what I do to you, nobody's gonna care. Nobody likes you. Nobody's gonna miss you. Nobody's gonna come looking for you. And the best part is, nobody's gonna feel a damn bit sorry for you. You deserve everything you're gonna get. And I'm going to enjoy giving it to you."

The weight of his words crushed her, their truth resounding with painful accuracy. He was right. Nobody would miss her. And they certainly wouldn't care about whatever might happen to her. The danger here was as real as it was ever going to get. She wasn't stuck inside the plot of some thrilling novel or blockbuster movie. There would be no unsung hero to rush to her rescue. There would be no last minute save. She was in this all on her own. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as another wave of fear rippled through her.

"Please let me go." she pleaded, in a last ditch effort to save herself. "I won't say anything to anyone. I promise. And… I'll fix it. I'll make things right..."

"I think it's a little too late for that." he growled, interrupting her. She cringed as she watched him move closer, his mouth lowering to her ear. "But I tell you what. Maybe it's all this fun we've been havin' tonight, but I'm feelin' a little generous. So, here's what we're gonna do. Since I know how much you like games, I've got a good one for you. And we're gonna play, right now. But don't worry, the rules are simple. I'm gonna let you go. And you've got two choices. Stay and fight. Or run." He laughed again, the smile that graced his face acknowledging the fact that he really wasn't giving her much of a choice at all. "I'll even be nice enough to give you a head start," he continued, his grin growing wider. "But I'll give you fair warning darlin'...if you run...if you think you can find a better place to hide...you better make it good. 'Cause if I find you again...well, I'll just let that part be a surprise..."

She felt his weight shift above her, his arm loosening about her neck and she tensed, ready to spring away the moment he released her. She had absolutely no intention of hanging around long enough to try to fight him off. Or to play his stupid games, for that matter. The only thing she wanted was enough time to escape downstairs to the front door and the freedom that awaited her on the other side. Let him search for her all he liked. She could guarantee he wouldn't get lucky again.

"You know, just to make it fun…" He paused again and she could practical see the warped wheels spinning inside his head as she watched him through the mirror. "I'll even count to a hundred. That should give you enough time to find a nice, safe spot. Besides, I feel up to a little challenge. After all, we have to keep things exciting, don't we?"

He planted a kiss on her cheek and she turned her head away in disgust, her fingers clawing at his muscular forearm as she tried to pry it loose from her throat. Then in the next instant, she was free, and she quickly scrambled to her feet and headed for the door, his gravelly voice echoing behind her as he began to count.

Surrounded by darkness again, it took her a moment to regain her bearings before she took off down the hall and toward the staircase that would lead her to safety. Still barefoot, she bounded down the stairs two at a time, her breath exhaled in a heavy gust as she roughly landed on the floor at the bottom. Rushing across the foyer, she was relieved when the faint outline of the door came into sight. Just a few more steps and she'd be free…

As she reached for the door knob, she pulled up short, the joy she'd felt seconds earlier dissipating into the gloom. The knob was still there, just as it always had been. But it was now accompanied by a thick, heavy padlock which had been laced through the latch plate above it, effectively securing the worn door to its frame.

"No, no, no…." she mumbled to herself as she tried the doorknob anyway, jerking and twisting, beating and cursing. But it was just as she'd thought. The door itself barely even moved. Thumping her forehead against the aged wood, she slapped her hand against it in frustration. She understood fully now why he hadn't shown any reluctance at the thought of letting her go. In his eyes, he'd made sure she had nowhere else to run.

_The windows!_

The idea flashed through her mind as she recalled having seen windows on either side of the door as she'd stared up at the house from the street outside. Feeling her way to the right, she wandered into the next room, groping for the draperies that no doubt still covered the shimmering panes. Finally finding what she was searching for, she jerked the curtains open, prepared to break her way through. But to her disappointment, instead of the smooth glass she had expected to see, she found only a darkened piece of wood that had been strategically nailed in place over the broad opening. Running her fingers along the rough edge of the lumber, she buried her fingernails beneath one corner and tugged with all her might. But, just as the door before it, the wood refused to budge.

With her heart pounding and hands shaking, her desperation flared as she crossed the empty foyer once more and entered the first room to the left, searching for the identical opening she knew was there. But even as she jerked aside the heavy drapery that covered it, she knew what she would find - another solid piece of wood that closed off any chance she might have to escape.

Holding in a scream of fear and frustration, she wiped away the tears that spilled across her cheeks. She couldn't fall apart. Not now. She had to keep her wits. Use her head. Even if she was at an extreme disadvantage, she couldn't let herself give up just yet. There was simply too much at stake for her to even entertain the thought.

From upstairs, she could hear the faint but steady rumble of Dean's voice as he continued his demented countdown toward whatever cruel fate he intended to bestow upon her, and she realized with mounting horror that she was quickly running out of time. Turning around, she stared into the unknown, squinting as she tried to see through the heavy shadows and gloom that filled the space. The interior of the house was even more dark and foreboding than the parts she'd already experienced and she was reluctant to venture any further into its dangerous depths. But by now, she couldn't see that she'd been left with any other choice.

With her hands braced in front of her to avoid a collision with any unexpected obstacles, she ventured forward, wandering blindly through a growing maze of what she could sense were mostly empty rooms. And though she lacked both a light to guide her and the time needed to thoroughly explore each space, she realized that in the end, it made little difference. After all the trouble he'd gone through to set his plan in motion, of course he'd make sure there were a limited number of places she would be able hide. It had already become painfully obvious that he'd done everything he possibly could to stack the deck in his favor. It was foolish for her to think he might have let such an important detail pass him by.

A heavy thud resounded from somewhere overhead, interrupting her thoughts, and she paused as her gaze shifted nervously in the direction of the ceiling. What the hell was he doing up there? Was her time up already?

Assuming the noise had been a warning signal for her benefit, she picked up her pace as she entered yet another abandoned room. It took only a few moments of exploration for her to determine that this room had once been the kitchen, as her hands lightly trailed along the cracked, dusty surface of an old countertop. Suddenly stricken with inspiration, she knelt to the floor and let her hands wander, until she discovered a pair of smooth, round knobs that still graced the doors of the existing cabinetry. She jerked them open, relieved that the hinges made only a minimal amount of noise, and felt around inside the opening. She was thrilled to find that not only were the cabinets empty, but they were large enough to allow her to crawl inside. Tucking herself away for the second time that evening, she sank her fingernails into the soft, crumbling wood of the door's interior and pulled them discreetly closed behind her as she settled into place. She only hoped that this time, she wouldn't have to share her hiding place with any unwelcome intruders.

The space was not nearly as wide as she had first hoped and she was forced to sit hunched over with her knees pressed tight against her chest, her arms wrapped around them as her head rested uncomfortably on top of the bony knobs. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on trying to slow her heart rate and her breathing, while not succumbing to a raging coughing fit. Her eyes burned and her throat itched and she was certain that if she managed to survive this ordeal, she'd never get rid of all the dirt and dust she'd inhaled while rolling around in all the filth. With a dismal sigh, she considered the hotel room reserved in her name that still sat silent and empty, awaiting her presence, so many miles away. How she longed to be tucked away behind the safety of those four walls, while she enjoyed the simple pleasure of a relaxing bath and a nice, hot meal. She could practically taste the crisp, refreshing flavor of the wine as it passed across her lips, could almost feel the soothing warmth of the water as it washed over her delicate skin. And afterward, she imagined how wonderful it would feel to shed the plush bathrobe from her lean body and slip naked beneath the cool, clean sheets of the bed and pass away the remainder of the night in peaceful slumber as dreams of luxury and extravagance danced through her head.

With a frown, she hugged herself tighter. Despite her circumstance, she held out hope that not all was lost. Perhaps, if luck were to finally be on her side, she could keep Dean at bay long enough for his interest in his sick game to wan. Or even better, that he might assume she had somehow managed to escape, despite his best efforts. And once he was gone, she could quietly slip away for real, and with a little bit of faith, she could possibly find herself inside the confines of her own welcoming room by morning.

Somewhere in the distance, a loud crash echoed throughout the house, and she jerked her head up in surprise, cursing to herself when it bounced painfully off the underside of the countertop above her. Rubbing her head as the fogginess faded from her mind, she was surprised to find that in her exhausted state, she had apparently drifted off to sleep. How long she'd been out, she didn't know. But if the noise that had awakened her was any indication, it had apparently been long enough for him to begin to lose his patience. She supposed that was as good of a sign as any. Impatience would make him careless. And if he was careless…well, that might just provide her with the opportunity she needed to save herself.

Now fully awake, she pressed her ear against the inside of the cabinet door and listened as a second noise traveled across the empty rooms, this one louder and much closer in proximity. He was talking again – she would recognize the sound of his voice anywhere - but whether the dialogue was directed toward her or for his own benefit, she couldn't determine. Then, as before, everything seemed to grow deathly quiet again. For several long minutes, there was nothing, the silence so heavy and thick that her own shallow breathing seemed as loud as a thousand screams to her own ears. Then the light appeared.

Over the years, the countertop had warped, pulling away from the top of the cabinetry, leaving a space wide enough so that someone could easily slide a couple of fingers in between the two pieces. It was through this thin gap that she watched as the light, so soft and subtle at first, flared to a golden luster as he stepped into the room, the thick base of a flaming candle gripped securely in his hand. Her fists clenching, her anger flared anew at his smug display of confidence. Of course he would give himself the added benefit of light. How else would he be able to successfully search for any clues she might have left behind. As he paused just inside the doorway and his gaze traveled around the room, taking stock of potential hiding spots, she prayed that whatever mistakes she might have made had been few and far between.

Now that the room was partially lit, she could see that it was a fairly small space, at least by modern day standards, made even more cramped by the large wooden table that was positioned in the middle of the room. The table itself was long and narrow, undoubtedly meant to mimic the flow of the counter top under which she now hid and she considered it a miracle that she hadn't crashed into the solid looking structure as she stumbled around blindly in the dark. She watched helplessly as Dean stepped further into the room, any hope that she had for him to make a quick retreat vanishing as he placed the candle on the corner of the table closest to him. The determination visible in his features, she cursed silently under her breath again as he began to slowly pace about the room instead.

She held stock still, unwilling to let a single muscle twitch as he walked between the table and wall furthest from her, his eyes roaming in much broader circles than his footsteps might wander. Still, there did not appear to be a sense of urgency in any of his actions, a grin of pure, unadulterated enjoyment gracing the lines of his face as he casually strolled along. As he disappeared from her line of vision, she found herself holding her breath, for she knew as long as he was out of her sight, she could only assume he was up to no good. Then his shadow broke through the thin ribbon of candlelight that shimmered from across the room, and she fought the urge to scurry deeper into the back corner of her hiding place as he silently strode past on his way back toward the doorway.

His circuit completed, a cautious spark of hope flared within her. If he would just pick up the light and go, she would be home free...

As though she had somehow issued a silent command, Dean reached for the candle on the table beside of him, as he started for the door. Then he paused again, before he turned to survey the room for a second time. Leaving the candle in its resting spot, he began to pace, retracing the slow circle he'd made around the room only moments before. He disappeared from sight again, the seconds ticking by, then minutes, as the tension rose to a nearly unbearable level. Then his shadow fell across the candlelight, momentarily blocking it from her view as he passed her by on his second journey back toward the doorway.

Still undiscovered, her shoulders sagged with relief and she blinked slowly as the candlelight flickered back into sight from across the room, the flame dancing eagerly in the stifling air. And though her eyelids closed only briefly, when she opened them again, she found herself peering into the pair of haunting blue eyes that had suddenly appeared on the other side of the crack at the top of the cabinet. Her heart leaping in her chest, she felt her blood run cold as Dean's voice broke through the night.

"Tag. Your it..."

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Part 2 coming soon! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and/or favorited the first part. Sorry it took so long to get this up.**

**Warning: Evil Ambrose smut ahead. You've been warned! ;)**

**Part 2**

"Tag. You're it..."

The cruel intonation of his voice sent a chill racing down Natalie's spine as a heavy ball of dread knotted in the pit of her stomach. As impossible as it seemed, she had failed. Despite all of her best efforts, he had won. He had found her. Recalling the cryptic threats he'd made in the room upstairs, she felt the bile rise in the back of her throat. She had no idea what he might possibly have planned for her. But she knew that whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good.

Momentarily frozen with indecisiveness, she finally did the only thing that seemed plausible to save herself. With as much force as she could muster, she swung the cabinet doors open against him, throwing him off balance as she scrambled out of the confining space. But always fast on his feet, Dean recovered quickly, lunging at her and latching onto one frail ankle before she even had the opportunity to get to her feet. Rolling to her back, she raised her knee toward her face, prepared to kick her way free from his grasp. But he knocked the limb away effortlessly before jumping back to his own feet, dragging her with him as his fist closed around her hair again. Spinning her around, he bent her over the table roughly, slamming her face against the solid wooden surface hard enough to turn her vision black. Her gasp of pain flared into a frenzied barrage of screams and curses, yet through it all, he stood silent behind her, easily staying out of reach of her clawing hands as he waited for her to tire herself out.

"You bastard! Get off me! Let me go!" She was panting, the results of her efforts obvious, and he finally released a laugh as he glanced toward the now empty cabinet, one hand still clasped around the base of her neck to keep her in place. "You know, I gotta admit darlin', that wasn't bad. Not bad at all. A little clever actually. But unfortunately for you, it wasn't quite clever enough."

Another burst of adrenaline coursed through her and Natalie renewed her struggles, but he merely tightened his grip on her neck, keeping her pinned securely to the table. "You wanna know what gave you away?" He answered the question without waiting for an invitation. "It was your perfume. I got a good whiff of it earlier, upstairs. You know, I've never really understood why you girls like to cover yourself in that stuff. Walkin around smelling like flowers or cupcakes or rainbows or some crap. But I bet this wasn't the kind of attention you expected when you sprayed that shit on this morning, was it?"

"Let me go." she repeated, begging now, as she ignored his insults. If she couldn't beat him physically, perhaps she could at least appeal to his senses. "You don't want to do this, whatever you're planning. Think of the consequences. Think about your career. Wrestling is all you have. You'd be lost without it."

Throwing his head back, Dean laughed out loud. "Consequences? From who? You can run your mouth all you want...nobody will believe a word you say. They'll just think you're trying to stir up more shit, just like you always do."

"It doesn't have to be like this." she continued, pleading. "We can work something out. I have connections. I can fix this..."

"Oh, make no mistake...you _will_ find someway to fix this." He was leaning over her now, the broad width of his chest pressed against her back, pinning her to the table,as he breathed harshly in her ear. "But that doesn't mean you still don't deserve to be punished for what you've done..."

His free hand, which had been braced on the table beside her head, disappeared. Within a moment, she felt it land on her hip, his fingers sliding along the smooth material of her skirt as he slowly gathered it into the palm of his hand. Feeling the hem riding higher and higher on her thighs, she again tried to fight her way free, but he only lowered his weight further onto her back, keeping her still.

"I warned you what would happen if I caught you again." he rasped, his voice low and menacing. "I can make this as easy or as hard as it needs to be. It's all up to how you wanna do it."

She stilled again and did her best to ignore his wandering fingers as she tried to think of a way out of her compromising position. But for all of her craftiness and ingenuity, for all of her scheming and plotting, this time, she was completely at a loss as to what to do. This was new to her – she was not accustomed to having things not go her way. But for the first time in a long while, she could see no viable way out of this precarious situation she had created for herself.

The jingle of his belt buckle pulled her from her thoughts, the pulse in her neck throbbing heavily as he loosened the clasp and tugged the leather briskly through the belt loops with a whispery rush. She tensed as she waited expectantly for the inevitable that she knew would come next, but instead, he surprised her by looping one end of the strap around her left wrist tightly, before securing the other end to the table leg, rendering the limb useless.

"No more games." he stated gruffly as he pulled on the bond to test its security, satisfied when it held. "It's time to get serious."

She felt his hand at her hip again, both of them this time, tugging at the material of her skirt which had been bunched there, the course texture of his jeans rough against the bare skin of her thighs. With her eyes locked on the bond that held her left wrist, she squirmed beneath his unwelcome advances, desperately searching for a flaw in the restraint that would allow her to break free. If he noticed her endeavors, he paid her no mind, his attention drawn to more important matters as his hands began their eager exploration. They slid from her hips to her waist, then around to the flat plane of her stomach, the taunt muscles twitching involuntarily as his fingers skimmed over them. Continuing the journey upward, he sought out her breasts, palming the large mounds and squeezing them roughly, which earned him another burst of angry curses. Shrugging off her complaints with an amused chuckle, he grabbed at the open collar of her blouse, jerking hard, the motion easily popping all of the buttons loose. Gasping in shock, Natalie attempted to lower her untethered hand to grasp the material closed, but he thwarted her efforts, catching her by the wrist and trapping it against the table.

"Do you really think you're going to get away with this?" she threatened, panic buzzing through her as she tried to think of something, anything, that would talk him out of what he was about to do.

"Do you really think I care?" he retorted, caressing the smooth dip of her side. Quickly, he shifted his attention back to her chest, where he managed to unclasp her bra expertly with his unoccupied hand. As her voluptuous curves tumbled free from the restrictive confines of the material, he resumed his examination, testing the weight of one naked breast in the palm of his hand.

"You know, I always wondered what you were packin' up there." he breathed over her shoulder as he groped her callously. "Too bad they're as fake as the rest of you."

"Go to hell." she spat, the word trailing off in a breathless gasp as he pinched the nipple sharply in response. She felt him shift above her, no doubt aiming for a better view of his exploits, and she took advantage of the moment, jerking to the side with lightning quickness, his preoccupation allowing her to tug her wrist free from his grasp. Channeling the anger brewing inside her, she twisted toward him, clawing at the air, sharp nails aimed ambitiously toward his eye sockets. But with obvious amusement, he merely flashed her an infuriating grin as he easily deflected the assault, the look on his face suggesting that he readily welcomed whatever challenges she might attempt to throw his way.

Within seconds, she was back under his control, pinned again helplessly between the unyielding tabletop and his equally solid chest. Still, she refused to surrender, fighting with all of her might to push herself off the hard surface beneath her. She braced herself against the furnishing, the muscles in her arm flexing as she tossed her head backwards blindly, in hopes of connecting with his nose. But she missed her target, finding nothing but air behind her, until he her grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face hard against the table. The attack was followed by the sharp, hot sting of his hand against her panty-clad ass, and she yelped in surprise, her struggles ceasing as a second blow quickly followed the first.

"I warned you, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Makes no difference to me." he reminded her as he walked his fingertips teasingly over the pinkish blotch that now marred her skin. Abruptly, his palm found its mark for a third time, gracing her bottom with another biting blow.

"Ow! That hurts, you bastard!" she cried as she danced from one leg to the other, trying to soothe away the burning pain. Unimpressed, he breathed heavily against her ear.

"I suggest you shut up and take it, before I find a better use for that belt." he growled menacingly.

Certain that he wasn't joking, Natalie quickly clamped her mouth closed as he picked up where he'd left off, his fingers tracing along the low waistband of her panties, illiciting a sound of objection that died on her lips as they slipped beneath the seamless edge of the material and pulled them down. He tugged them to her knees, then used the toe of his boot to jerk them the rest of the way to the floor, before kicking them aside with an air of indifference. Now completely naked from the waist down, she couldn't prevent the tremor that coursed through her as his hands came to rest on her hips once more.

"I'm not going to let you do this to me..." she argued, blinking back the heavy tears that had formed in the corner of each eye as she tugged against the makeshift restraint that still held securely, her words earning a laugh from the man behind her.

"Oh, I'm not going to do anything to you." he stated calmly, his tone less than reassuring. "You're going to do it to yourself."

Stunned, she gave him an incredulous glance over her shoulder. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He glanced downward, nodding his head in her direction. "Touch yourself." he commanded.

His meaning sinking in, she felt her skin flush with embarrassment as she choked back a laugh of incredulity. "Fuck you."

The sudden, sharp blow of his hand against her already throbbing ass made her cry out again. "I don't think you're in any position to argue." he reminded her, coolly.

Panting harshly, she longed to reach behind her and rub away the sting that lingered on her bruised skin. But she refused to give him that kind of satisfaction. Instead, she stubbornly left her hand where it was on the table, ignoring his crude command. Instantly, she was rewarded with a trio of savage strikes to her bottom, her thighs slamming hard into the edge of the table with each stroke.

"I better see that hand moving." he warned, raising his hand for a fourth blow.

With a whimper of resignation, Natalie let her hand drop from the tabletop to slide between her thighs, cupping herself as she waited for the pain in her ass to subside. Indifferent to her discomfort, Dean shoved his leg between her own and used his knee to widen her stance, leaning back to take a closer look.

"If I don't see some action soon, you're gonna regret it." he warned, taking note that even though she'd placed her hand where he wanted it, it wasn't moving.

Closing her eyes, she felt humiliation wash over her as her fingers slipped between her soft folds and she began to gently stroke herself. Struggling to maintain an expression of disinterest on her face, she guided them along the most intimate parts of her body, barely skimming the surface as she carried on the charade of pleasuring herself, wondering how much longer this ordeal would continue. It wasn't that she had qualms about touching herself. It was an indulgence that she had savored on numerous occasions, whenever a suitable partner was lacking. But there was no way in hell she was going to do this now. Not here. Not with him. She'd be damned if she'd give him the pleasure of experiencing the show.

Unfortunately, as the minutes ticked by, he seemed to grow more enthralled by her actions, his astute observation alerting him that perhaps she was not being as cooperative as he had demanded. Leaning in closer, he covered her hand with his own, forcing it more firmly against her unwilling body. Appalled, she tried to jerk her hand away from the contact, but he held it firmly, gliding it across her skin with tantalizing slowness, teasing the sensitive flesh.

"I won't warn you again." he threatened, his enjoyment obvious from the hardness she felt pressed against her hip.

Guiding her movements, he forced her fingertips to brush upward along her smooth slit, massaging the hidden nub with a series of slow, delightful circles before trailing away along a path of torturous avoidance, the action mimicking the own technique she used to pleasure herself when she was alone. Biting her lip, she tried to ignore her body's response to the familiar movements, still struggling to pull her hand from his grasp, even as he forced it deeper into her quickly dampening flesh. Adding insult to injury, he wrapped his free arm around her, his hand covering one breast, his thumb stroking and teasing the hardening nipple with surprising finesse, until she was almost arching into his touch.

She gasped, whimpering softly as unwanted tension began to wind its way through the pit of her stomach, fighting the accelerating pace that he alone controlled. Her breath quickening, she groaned pitifully, the sound a mixture of growing need and forlorn resignation as her carnal instincts rose to the forefront and began to take control.

It was obvious now what he wanted from her, what his intentions were. It wasn't pain or fear he was after. No, that would be too easy for him to achieve. He wanted her shame, her humiliation, his retribution for the own disgrace that he'd publicly endured all those weeks ago. Do unto others. An eye for an eye. It all made sense. And even though he didn't have a throng of fans currently cheering him on from the sidelines, she knew that it made little difference to him. He would know. And so would she. And that simple fact would be audience enough for him.

Roughly shoving her fingers inside of her, he forced her to fuck herself as the heel of his palm grinded deliciously against her throbbing clit, drawing her ever closer to that invisible line he so desperately wanted her to cross. Closing her eyes, she attempted to resist the wave of tension swelling inside of her, focusing on anything and everything else she could find to help rein her wayward libido back in line. But it was a useless battle, one she knew she was going to lose, the pleasure unbearable now as she fucked herself harder and faster, her hips moving of their own accord in a matching rhythm, searching for the impending release that was just out of reach.

Teetering on the edge, she was nearly there, her body straining as it reached the peak, his hand still hot and furious between her thighs. Then it was gone, and she gasped as her hand was abruptly torn away, her arm twisted viciously behind her back and held there. Crying out in pain and surprise, she squirmed against the edge of the table, every nerve in her body still desperate and on fire with the denial of her impending orgasm.

"Well, it looks like we have a little problem here." He rasped, taunting her as he thrust his hips crudely against the curve of her bottom. "See, where I come from, if you want something, you gotta ask for it first."

Beneath him, Natalie remained silent, still dizzy and weak from the labored efforts she'd been forced to undertake.

"No? Not ready to beg yet?" he inquired. "Ok."

His hand dropped between her thighs again and resumed its wicked exploration. With an anguished sigh, she made a half-hearted attempt to close her legs, but as she already suspected, her resistance was futile. And within minutes, she was thrusting her hips in rhythm with his touch again, every muscle in her body coiled tight and ready to spring with the welcome flood of relief. Then she was left dangling over the edge again, a sob of pure frustration torn from her as she was left unsatisfied for a second time.

With a laugh, he peeked over her shoulder. "I can keep this up all night. I told you darlin', I can make this as easy or as hard as it needs to be."

Despair washing over her, she knew there was only one way this night would end. Still, the hand behind her back curled into a fist, the nails digging painfully into the soft skin of her palm as she tried to suppress the word that finally tumbled from her lips. "Please..."

"Ahhhh, that's more like it. Now the question is, please what?"

Unable to bring herself to voice the words, she whimpered, shaking her head as though she might somehow be able to deny that any of this could even be happening to her. Dissatisfied with her silence, his palm bounced off of her already tender ass, the angry smack resounding throughout the room as her soft mewl of dissent spiraled into a cry of pain.

"Please what?" he repeated harshly.

Exhausted and broken, Natalie gave in, finally mouthing the words she knew he wanted to hear.

"Please...fuck me."

Trembling, she lay bent over the table, her right arm still pinned behind her, her left still restrained by the belt, listening helplessly as the button of his pants was unsnapped and the zipper pulled down. And even though she knew what would come next, she still jumped, startled, as he boldly guided the head of his cock between her legs, her face flushing with embarrassment as he coated himself with the results of his earlier efforts. Then, pressing himself against her entrance, he paused.

"Later on, just remember," he warned. "You asked for this..."

He thrust into her savagely, without the slightest care or concern for her comfort, her slick depths drawing him in. Once fully inside her, he wasted no time in taking what he wanted, the result of each long, deep stroke flickering through her stomach as he possessed her completely. The rough hands that dug into her hips slid upward to cup her breasts, the fingers brutally pinching and tugging at the tender peaks. Defenseless, she tried to distance herself from the torture, but in the end, she only resulted in pushing herself further back onto the hardened length of him, driving him deeper inside of her. Her head spinning, she groaned in pleasure, feeling the tension coil through her belly as he slaked the need that he'd earlier denied, trying her best to ward off the sensations building inside of her. As this pace, she thought, he should be done quickly enough. If only she could hold off a little longer...

Releasing her arm from behind her back, Dean traded it for her hair, yanking her head back sharply so her ear was close to his mouth.

"I wanna see you play with yourself again." he demanded, between ragged breaths.

Moaning, she shook her head as she grasped the edge of the table to balance herself. Dissatisfied with her response, he released the breast he'd been mauling, using the hand to punish the other ass check, which up to this point had been spared from abuse, marring it with the result of several heavy handed blows.

"Do it!" he ordered, finding his mark one last time before she finally caved. Her hand slithered reluctantly between her slippery thighs, and he released her hair, shoving her forward onto the table as his hand covered hers again.

"Don't do this..." she pleaded, her voice not much more than a whisper, her breath ragged as his fingers forced hers to pleasure herself, dragging back and forth over her swollen clit with a rapidly quickening pace.

"I told you, I'm not." he breathed. "You are."

He returned his attention to her nipples, fondling them roughly as his fingers pressed deeper into her wet slit, his thrusts quickening along with the pace of her ragged breath. Helplessly, she felt the pleasure swell within her – the cock buried deep inside her, the fingers tormenting her throbbing clit and aching nipples, the sharp nip of his teeth, which had found a particularly sensitive spot on the back of her neck – all driving her headlong into an overpowering release. With an uncontrollable urge, her gasps transformed into loud, ragged moans as she arched into him, driving him further inside of her, the head of his cock dragging across the most delightful of spots, making her entire being shudder with delight. Unable to stop the impending reaction, she came hard and fast, nails digging and scratching at the tabletop as her screams of pleasure echoed throughout the empty house.

Collapsing against the table, she was only faintly aware of the sound of his own harsh breath quickening, and the feel of his body stiffening as he came inside of her with a ferocious growl. For a few moments, his weight grew heavy as he rested on top of her, his chest slick and hot against her exposed back. Then he stood, withdrawing from her, her senses returning slowly as she listened to the rustle of his clothing as he dressed himself. Bracing herself on the tabletop, Natalie attempted to stand upright, but her trembling legs gave way beneath her and she slid to the floor, her back propped against the leg to which she was still tethered.

He was watching her, glaring at her - that much she could tell. But she refused to meet his gaze. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to see the smug satisfaction that she knew she would find in his eyes. Instead, she stared off into nothingness, her attention focused on the dark shadows that danced around the long-abandoned room behind him. How long she'd sat there, she wasn't sure. Maybe seconds. Maybe minutes. But it was a quick succession of bright, rapid flashes that finally pulled her back into reality. Confused, she finally glanced up at him, realization and horror slowly setting in.

Smiling, he fiddled with the cell phone in his hand, before turning his attention back to her. Leaning over, he untied the belt strap from the table leg, then unfastened it from her wrist. The appendage fell into her lap, blistered and numb, and she eyed him suspiciously as he swung the belt over his head and hung it carelessly about his neck. Crudely, he kicked the bottom of her foot.

"Clean yourself up. You're a mess." he taunted. Grinning, he kneeled down and waved the phone in her face. "Just to make sure that we're on the same page, this is my insurance policy. If I have any more trouble out of you, I mean even the slightest peep, I promise that every guy in the locker room will have their own personal copies of these photos." He shoved the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

"I bet they'd really enjoy seeing how freshly fucked you look right now. In more ways than one." He added, chuckling softly. "But I don't think we're going to have any more trouble now, are we? I think after tonight, you might have just learned your lesson. But just so there's no confusion, let me make this perfectly clear darlin'...if you breathe a word of this to anyone...if you tell a single soul that you even saw me tonight,...I'll make tonight look like a walk in the park compared to what I'll do the next time I see you. Understand?"

Huddled nervously against the hard wood of the table, Natalie nodded as she hugged herself to try and cover some of her nudity.

"Then say it." he demanded.

"I understand." she whispered, cringing as he gave her cheek a pat.

"Good girl. That's what I thought."

She watched as he rose to his feet, her eyes dropping to the floor as he slowly circled around the table. From the corner of her eye, she saw the light shift as he picked up the candle from the corner where he'd placed it earlier and strode toward the door. There he paused and turned back toward her.

"If I were you, I'd be gettin' dressed and gettin' the hell out of here. You've got a long walk ahead of you. Besides, if you wait around here too long, you never know who else might decide to show up."

Then he was gone and she was alone again, the room thrust into pitch blackness as he disappeared into the house. Overwhelmed and exhausted, and relieved that she was finally alone, she curled up on the floor and began to sob. Briefly, the thought crossed her mind that maybe he wasn't really gone, that perhaps, even now, he could be lingering in the shadows, drawing even more pleasure from her pain and fear. But she decided that by this point, she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, he couldn't do any more harm to her than he already had.

When she was finally cried out, she slowly rolled to her knees and used the ledge of the table to pull herself to her feet. Lingering for a moment, she tried to regain her bearings, tugging her skirt back into place and refastening her bra, before shuffling toward what she hoped was the direction of the doorway. With her arms held out in front of her, she stumbled blindly back through each of the uninhabited rooms she'd traversed earlier that night, anxious to make her escape from this horrible, nightmarish place.

Finally reaching the familiar staircase, she paused, bracing herself against one newel post as she glanced up at the second floor. She was barefoot; her shoes were still up there somewhere, lost inside that godforsaken room. But she couldn't bring herself to muster enough courage to ascend to that pit of hell and retrieve them. It would be too much for her to handle. And even if she were brave enough, she didn't think she had enough energy left in her to climb the stairs anyway. With a sigh of resignation, she decided she'd just have to make the journey back without them.

Stumbling toward the front door, she felt relief wash over, knowing that her ordeal was over. Even with a difficult hike looming in front of her, it would be nothing compared to the torment she had already endured thus far.

Reaching for the knob, she suddenly froze in place, her eyes drawn instantly to the glimmer of the metal fixture that still sealed the door closed.

In terrifying disbelief, she grabbed frantically at the knob, twisting and jerking with all her might, hoping that her eyes were merely playing tricks on her. But to her dismay, she discovered quickly that it was not a hallucination. She was still locked inside the house, unable to reach the sweet freedom that awaited for her just a few steps beyond. But, even more frightening than that, she realized that if she was still trapped inside, with no way out, then so was he.

As though on cue, something jingled behind her and she spun around in fright, her worst fears discovered. Frozen, she watched the dark form emerge from the shadows, the foreboding smack of the doubled-over belt against his palm keeping time with his stride. Cringing against the door, she whined in despair as he drifted closer, a demented smile on his face.

"What can I say? I had a slight change of heart" he declared , answering her unasked question with cold indifference.

"Noooooooo!" With a wail of despair, Natalie sank to the floor, covering her ears as she began to scream.

Her cry overshadowed by the sound of his laughter, she sobbed as he grabbed her arms and jerked her roughly to her feet.

"Looks like we're not done here after all..."

With a sputtering gasp, Natalie bolted upright in bed, her hands trembling uncontrollably as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She felt hot, smothered, like the entire weight of the world was pressing down onto her with all of its might. Leaning over, she reached for the lamp on the bedside table and turned the switch, in hopes of chasing away the remnants of the horrible dream she'd just had. No, not just a dream. That had been a full blown nightmare.

With a frown, she sighed in frustration as the room remained bathed in darkness. Damn cheap hotel lights. Why was it nothing in these places worked like it was supposed to? Flicking the switch back and forth, she finally gave up the cause.

Settling back against the headboard, she ran her hands over her face. Dean, that insolent bastard! She didn't know how or why he'd managed to work his way into her psyche tonight, of all nights, when she hadn't given him a second thought for weeks. She recalled the threat he'd made, mulling over his promise from all those weeks ago, then shook it off. The dude was creepy, that was for sure. But she decided he was mostly full of shit, spouting off a bunch of brainless nonsense every chance he got, more than not unlikely that he could back any of it up. What a jerk! She, for one, was looking forward to the day when somebody would put those self-proclaimed hounds of justice to sleep. And if _she_ had any say in the matter, it would definitely be sooner rather than later.

Unable to shake off the feeling of dread that still clung to her, she tossed back the covers and climbed out of bed, cautiously padding across the floor to the bathroom in the corner. Still uneasy from the dream, she couldn't help but glance about her nervously, every flicker of a shadow or flutter of the curtain making her skittish as she crossed the room.

She'd lost count of how many nights she'd spent sleeping in the same old hotel rooms, all of them practically identical, even down to the cheap, boring furnishings that decorated them. A well-used bed, worn carpeting, thin particle board furniture. Heaters that rattled when they ran and faucets that dripped when they didn't. She hated it. All of it. But it was all she could afford on the meager salary she made. Luxury and elegance, that's what she really wanted. Satin sheets and bubble baths. Room service and fine wine. Those were the things that she truly wanted. It was what she deserved. And she would have it. Soon. No matter who she had to screw over to get it.

Even though the layout was the same as all the others in recent memory, she still struggled to find the light switch as she reached the bathroom doorway and snaked her hand inside. _Is it really too much to ask for a little light,_ she thought to herself as she fumbled around blindly in the dark. Then her fingers grazed the edge of the plastic plate on the wall and her hand closed over the switch, a mere second before a second hand covered her own.

Opening her mouth to scream, her breath was cut short as she was tugged violently into the room.

The hand covered her mouth, a low, raspy voice rumbling in her ear.

"Hello darlin'. I've been waitin' for you…"


End file.
